


bulletproof

by sorbetjin



Category: K-pop, 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Psychopaths, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Angst and Humor, Assassination, Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, Attempt at Humor, BTS AU, Bad Humor, Bottom Park Jimin (BTS), Bts mafia, Childhood Friends, Cute Park Jimin (BTS), Dark, Dark Comedy, Flash Fic, Gun Violence, Killer Min Yoongi | Suga, M/M, Minor Min Yoongi | Suga/Park Jimin, Serial Killers, Snipers, Soft Park Jimin (BTS), Some Humor, Top Min Yoongi | Suga, Violence, agust d, bts fanfic, mafia yoongi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorbetjin/pseuds/sorbetjin
Summary: Min Yoongi is a hitman, acting under the moniker Agust D. Killing people isn't exactly something he would lose sleep over; not anymore.Except this time, the target is someone he knows-- someone by the name of Park Jimin.// mafia!yoongi au





	1. scope // yoongi

   The sky was as dark as ink, the flickering streetlights barely clearing up any of the grimness of the moonless scenery. The small city slumbered away in the middle of the night, the silence seemingly misplaced, especially when compared with its daytime counterpart. The streets were relatively quiet, with a few cars passing by the main road at odd intervals. Some drunkards would stumble out of the late-night bars once in a while, shit-faced drunk, their cheeks flushed as red as cherries and their pockets as dry as their throats.

   But of course, none of these mattered to Min Yoongi. If anything, these only served to help him complete his task for the night.

   The man slipped underneath the cover of the night, disappearing into shadows whilst dressed in all-black attire. The clothes fit his fit and lithe body perfectly, and had successfully helped him blend into his surroundings countless of times. However, these all seemed rather pointless, considering his hair was dyed pale blond, a stark contrast to the otherwise perfect, dark disguise.

   He could feel the tip of his nose stiffen as a gust of cold air hit him right in the face. He shivered in his boots, laying against the rooftop as flat as he could to conserve his body heat. The weather was a bit too cold for his comfort—he swore he had a layer of frost over his gloved arms, but he had a job to get done. It wasn’t like his personal complaints meant anything in the eyes of the organization.

   Besides, if the man with the highest kill count in the company complained about a little cold, what would that mean for the rest of the group?

Did he somehow manage to use the cold as means to brag about his unbreakable record, you ask? Maybe, but who could blame him, really. He was held with high regard even within the underground scene for his precision and ruthlessness, taking out anyone that served as a potential threat to the organization without fail.

   But he wasn’t as heartless as he seemed. Underneath the persona that is the cold and calculating infamous hitman, Agust D, was still Min Yoongi. He refused to kill anyone for the fun of it. Sometimes, a few clients would come by his way, requesting him to dirty his hands because of a simple, petty dispute. Yoongi would roll his eyes at them and demand them to scram before he punctured their lungs with his bullets. It was a principle he stood by, even if it meant rejecting large amounts of cash.

   Most of the organization’s hitmen didn’t have the same freedom he did when it came to choosing their marks, but Yoongi had climbed his way to the very top, and was well-acquainted with the boss.

   But today, his boss had sent in a personal request. Even though Yoongi was his usual errand boy, and Yoongi had done his fair share of clean-up work with the boss’s enemies, it was the first time he seemed a little bit... _different._ His stone-cold mask seemed to crack for a split second—and Yoongi managed to catch a glimpse of the little quiver in his lips.

   When Yoongi asked for a name, the boss told him he didn’t need it, and only handed him a piece of roughly torn paper with some scribbles on it. He had written an address down, and address Yoongi had never seen before, and a short description of how the target looked like.

“This isn’t enough info.” Yoongi said, furrowing his eyebrows. “How am I supposed to find this guy?”

“With his coloured hair,” He told Yoongi as he pressed a rifle into his hands. “You’ll spot him easily.”

   His mind came back to the present. He really couldn’t afford to lose focus, especially when his line of work was dangerous. A simple mistake could land him behind bars.

   Yoongi sighed as he slipped his cloth-covered rifle off of his back, and got into position on his stomach. He was decent in sniping, but Yoongi had always preferred using guns, knives, and even poison, if necessary. He knew a long-range kill would be cleaner, but he liked the satisfaction of seeing the life drain out of his target’s eyes. Yoongi always made sure to snuff out any signs of life, maybe throwing in a few more shots to the vital points for good measure. He believed the sole reason why he had the highest kill count was because he always made sure his targets were actually goners, unlike the cowardly hitmen who flee the scene after getting a single hit, terrified of being caught. Yoongi had perfected his craft over his time working underground, knowing when to leave before the authorities arrived and crashed the scene.

   He scoffed. As if the authorities dared to lay a hand on one of the most formidable organizations in South Korea.

   Though he wasn’t one to hesitate, as he adjusted his gear, Yoongi couldn’t help but wonder what was different about the target of choice this time. He wasn’t sure why the boss seemed a bit distraught, and refused to answer any of Yoongi’s questions about the target. The boss hadn’t given him a concrete reason as to why he wanted the guy dead, and as everyone knew, Yoongi wasn’t one to take up any requests that weren’t sufficiently justified. Even though Yoongi had never once broken his own principles, he trusted his higher-up, who hadn’t once abused his lackey’s skills for petty crimes.

   But then again, law and crime was a grey area. Who was Yoongi to determine what was inherently good or bad?

   Yoongi shook his head. Whatever the case, he was stationed and ready. He peered through his scope. All he had to do was wait for the target to walk by the window, and he would get a clear shot—

He felt his blood run cold.

_No._

   He dropped his rifle and ducked behind the roof, his heart pounding against his chest. He thrusted his hand into his pocket, pulling out the crumpled paper out of his pocket and flattening it out against his thigh.

   He stared at the address, messily scrawled over the white paper in black ink. No, he definitely got it right. The shoddy apartment complex was right in front of him. He was at the right place, at the right time, and his target had the same brightly coloured hair as his boss had specified.

   He must’ve seen wrong, right? Maybe, just _maybe_ , by some chance, he had a roommate, or Yoongi had turned colour blind for a moment and his hair was totally dark or some shit. He took a deep breath, his palm burning as the gravel scraped against his leather gloves as he pushed himself up to get another look at his target.

   A young man stood by the window, reading something on his phone. His hair was bright pink, and he was around Yoongi’s height. Same pale skin, same muscular body, same pouty lips—the man before him fit the description of the target perfectly, unfortunately for Yoongi.

Yoongi swallowed harshly as he watched him through his scope.

 _Fuck_.

It really was him. Yoongi cursed his luck. Out of all the times he could meet him again.

Out of all the times he could cross paths with Park Jimin.

   Yoongi was at a loss at what to do. Never in a million years would he have suspected his target would be someone he knew by name. Granted, he hadn't seen him since high school, but he would recognize the guy anywhere. And Yoongi certainly wouldn’t feel good taking out someone he used to be good friends with.

   The speaker in his earpiece crackled to life. Yoongi was still in a state of shock, but he knew he had to do something about the situation. A stream of questions were running through his mind, and he sure as hell wanted all the answers to them.

His boss’s voice rang in his ear. “Did you finish the job?”

Yoongi gulped. “Uh, about that. Why exactly do you want to kill this guy?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Um, it’s just that, he seems kinda young, and somewhat harmless—“

 _“Have you gone soft, Agust D?”_  

Yoongi flinched. “No, I just—“

“Then get it done. I expect you to be back before sunrise.”

The speaker cut off, and Yoongi slumped back into his position. Yoongi sighed again. He didn’t want to have to do this, and he had thought this was the worst case scenario, but he was out of cards to deal with.

He was driven into a corner. There was just nothing else he could do.

His finger reached out.

It felt as if time had stopped around Yoongi.

 

…now or never, right?

_ding dong!_

“Yoongi-hyung? I haven’t seen you in years!”

   Yoongi smiled awkwardly at Jimin, shoving his unnaturally large basket of fruits into his hands as he accepted his side-hug with his free arm. “Yeah, I know, right?”

   Yoongi glanced around the room. It was small, but it seemed to be enough for a young man living alone in the city. The room décor screamed Jimin—two couches covered in cute, fluffy pillows, a nice, pastel rug, mangas propped up against one another on his bookshelves, and rows of liquor lining his kitchen cupboard. The window through which Yoongi had seen him through seemed smaller from the rooftop.

   The thought that Yoongi could’ve shot his old friend dead in his nice little lounge if he had noticed who he was even a second later made him shudder. If he hadn’t looked through his scope and zoomed in on his face… It wasn’t like he knew Jimin had changed his hair to bright pink. For all he knew, it could’ve been a K-Pop idol, hiding away in a rundown apartment. The fact that he came close to pulling the trigger was enough to make him sweat bullets.

   Jimin tilted his head as he set aside Yoongi’s gift on the kitchen counter. “Hey, how did you know I live here? I don’t think I told you I moved.”

   Yoongi glanced at the open window, feeling the urge to jump out increasing every second Jimin stared at him with his intense eyes. He cleared his throat. “Uh, Taehyung told me.”

Jimin frowned. “I don’t think I told Taehyung, though.”

   “Must’ve been one of the other guys, then, haha. I’m old, I don’t remember stuff.” Yoongi said lightly, trying to steer the conversation to a safer topic before Jimin got too suspicious. He cracked a smile for the first time in a while, and his facial muscles threatened to cramp up from sudden overuse. “I’m just glad to see you again. The small details don’t matter, I miss you.”

   Jimin gave him a smile so bright, it was as if the entire city was doused in sunlight, despite the fact it was 2 a.m in the middle of the night. He ushered Yoongi to sit on one of his plush couches, and went to prepare them both drinks as he laughed at Yoongi’s sudden declaration of affection. “I miss you, too! Kind of random for you to drop by so late, though.” Suddenly, the air turned electric. His expression morphed into worry; his hand froze, an empty glass raised mid-air. “…Did something happen?”

   Yoongi cursed Jimin’s attentiveness. The younger man had a knack for reading the atmosphere and noticing when something wasn’t quite right. He hesitated. “Well, I’m not the one in trouble, per se.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

   “It’s… a long story.” Where would he even begin? That he was sent to take Jimin’s life? How would he even begin to explain why he was involved in such a business in the first place? And how on earth would he explain that his boss provided him no feasible reason to order Yoongi to shoot him dead?

   Jimin sat down next to him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh. Yoongi felt a pang of guilt hit him. Why on earth did someone want him dead? Jimin was quite literally, the nicest person he had ever met. He had always been gentle, patient, kind, even to someone as cold as Yoongi. He had helped Yoongi through his (significantly) smaller problems when they were younger.

   “It’s okay, hyung, you can talk to me.” Jimin said, in that soft voice of his that never failed to calm anyone down. Yoongi felt like bursting into tears right there and then. He wouldn’t, of course. But he _felt_ like it.

Yoongi gripped Jimin’s wrist. The sudden physical contact seemed to surprise the younger.

“Jimin,” Yoongi said, lowering his voice. “Someone’s out to kill you.”

The silence in the room was deafening.

Okay, in his defence, Yoongi wasn’t exactly known for his subtlety.

All colour drained from Jimin’s face. He laughed nervously. “Hyung, this isn’t a good time to joke around.”

   “No.” Yoongi shoved the note into his hand. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but you are definitely the target. The paper has your address, and you fit the description perfectly.”

   Jimin’s eyes widened as he unfurled the paper. He glanced at the paper, then at Yoongi. “How do I know this isn’t just a little prank to spook me?” He asked warily.

_Thud._

   Jimin stared at the rifle Yoongi had placed on the table, and Yoongi could see cold sweat starting to drip down his neck. It looked a little too real to be a toy, and Yoongi could tell by the way his eyes started darting around that he maybe finally realized how odd Yoongi looked clad in his dark clothes, covered in seemingly useless straps. Upon closer inspection, one would notice that each strap held a knife, tucked into pitch black leather covers. Yoongi liked the feeling of having his knives pressed against his skin-- the fact that he had a backup weapon at all times comforted him.

Though he was sure Jimin didn’t share the same sentiment as him, judging by the look on his face.

   Jimin’s eyes trailed back up to Yoongi, and Yoongi could tell he was unsure if he dared to look directly at his hyung. To be fair, Yoongi was visibly armed. It would be weirder if Jimin acted all cool about all this.

   Still, Yoongi felt bad that Jimin was scared of him. He tightened his grip around Jimin's wrist, and Jimin’s entire body tensed up. His eyes flicked upwards to meet Yoongi's gaze.

“How, you ask?”

The look in Yoongi’s eyes was ice-cold.

 

_“Because I was the one who was sent to kill you.”_


	2. friends // jimin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short update :) yes, jimin is whipped for yoongi, but aren't we all?

Jimin felt a chill run down his spine. His head snapped to the open window in front of him.

 _Funny_. For a second, he thought he saw someone watching him from the roof of the building on the other side…

   Jimin had been living alone ever since his mother kicked him out of the house a month ago, but still, his paranoia hadn’t gotten any better. He hated living by himself, and being in the shady part of town didn’t help his nerves. The smallest creak could set him off, and he’d spend an entire hour double-checking all the locks to his doors and windows.

   He thought he would get better as time passed, but he still couldn’t help but break out in cold sweat whenever something seemed slightly out of place. Namjoon, the only person he informed about his new place, advised him to shake it off and ignore the small things, for his own peace of mind.

   So when he thought he saw a silhouette, and something glint in the distance, he just shook his head and went back to his phone. Taehyung was blowing up his phone, and he knew he didn’t really have the liberty to reply to his friend late. He didn’t want Taehyung to sulk, especially because of him.

   Jimin bit his lip. This would be the first year he couldn’t celebrate Taehyung’s birthday together since they met. They were already living pretty far apart prior to his move, but his new place made it pretty much impossible to casually travel to meet his friend.

   Living alone also meant he was short on money. Of course, since he didn’t want Taehyung to worry, he made a lame excuse that he was in charge of training the new recruits at his job, and his boss, the evil, _mean_ demon that he was, refused to give him a day off. He could practically see Taehyung pouting at his explanation, but he said he understood and told him to not beat himself up over it. Tae tried to cheer him up and assure him it was fine by spamming his favourite stickers-- Jimin loved that he always knew how to make him feel better.

While he was smiling down at the weird gif Tae had sent, his doorbell rang.

Jimin froze.

   He immediately checked the time. Why on earth would anyone suddenly drop by to visit at 2 am? He suspected it might be a drunk, since there were a lot of bars in the vicinity, but the nagging feeling that it might be something else made him walk slowly to the door.

   He squinted. Through the peephole, he could make out someone with a large basket of fruits, dressed in all black. They seemed sober, even calm. His fingers twisted the doorknob.

Needless to say, it was the last person he expected to see.

“Yoongi-hyung? I haven’t seen you in years!”

“Yeah, I know, right?”

   Min Yoongi stood there, and Jimin almost didn’t recognize him. His pale blond hair was something he didn’t expect to ever see on his Yoongi-hyung, but it looked great against his snow-white skin. He looked a lot better—healthier, more mature, and definitely more handsome. He was dressed head-to-toe in black, in clothes tighter than the Yoongi he knew would ever wear. The tight fit made it clear just how much more muscular he had gotten since they last met.

   His voice was deeper, too. Maybe it was just from the cold weather, but it was huskier than he remembered. Jimin could blush at just how attractive Yoongi was at that very moment, but he had other pressing questions on his mind.

   Y’know, minor details like, _how on earth he tracked down where Jimin lived despite not even telling his own best friend._

   He took the basket of fruits from Yoongi. “Hey, how did you know I live here? I don’t think I told you I moved.”

“Uh, Taehyung told me.”

_Huh?_

That can't be right. Jimin frowned. “I don’t think I told Taehyung, though.”

   “Must’ve been one of the other guys, then, haha. I’m old, I don’t remember stuff.” Yoongi said, cracking the cutest gummy smile as he spoke. “I’m just glad to see you again. The small details don’t matter, I miss you.”

   Yoongi’s smile had always had an odd, ecstacy-like effect on him, and he smiled back shyly. “I miss you, too! Kind of random for you to drop by so late, though.”

   Still, despite his smile, something felt incredibly… _off_. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something might be wrong. There was just no way Yoongi would suddenly drop by in the dead of the night to give him a basket of fruits. Plus, though he felt bad for doubting him, the fact that Yoongi couldn’t tell him how he knew his new address made him suspicious.

He turned to his hyung, concerned.

“…Did something happen?”

Yoongi hesitated. “Well, I’m not the one in trouble, per se.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

   Okay, Jimin was not having the best of evenings. Long story short, his life was in danger, and apparently Yoongi was going to shoot him dead with a fucking rifle. All of a sudden, everything seemed to click. His all-black clothes, the long package slung around his back, and the weird straps covering his thighs and shin. He just looked over it at first, but anyone who laid their eyes on him would immediately suspect that he was a criminal. Yeah, maybe Jimin was a little too distracted by Yoongi's biceps.

He took a step back, trying to focus on the actual issue at hand. “Why would someone want to kill me?”

   Yoongi shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t know. The boss didn’t want to tell me. I didn’t even know it was you until I saw you through my scope.”

Jimin shuddered. He could've died without even knowing it. And it would've sucked more because he was texting his friend about his upcoming birthday. The thought that maybe Taehyung would get upset at him for not replying at all out of a sudden, and then finding out he was murdered by their old friend the next day... it was safe to say Jimin didn't want to wish that kind of experience upon anyone. He had to dig deeper, despite knowing he would be crossing a dangerous line. “Who do you work for? Who is this guy?” He demanded.

Yoongi scratched the back of his neck. “Um, I’m not supposed to tell you-“

   “Pretty sure you were supposed to keep your mission a secret from me, too, but here we are.” Jimin paused, his heart racing. “…Is it someone I know?” Jimin asked softly. The thought terrified him, but his curiosity was dying to know the identity of the guy who wants him dead.

   Yoongi leaned in, and Jimin felt himself flinch when his hot breath hit his ear. He didn’t like the fact that maybe there was a possibility that his old crush didn’t die down, after all. Seeing him in person, hotter than ever, made his heart flutter like it did back then. He’d be enthusiastic about his crush visiting him in the middle of the night, if it weren’t for the fact he only came there to kill him.

Yoongi murmured a name into his ear.

   Jimin swallowed hard. _Of course_. Who else could it be? Just how much did the guy want to fuck his life up? First he swept Jimin’s mother off her feet, manipulated her, threw him out of the house, and now he wants him dead?

“That’s my mother’s new boyfriend.” Jimin said, the bitterness creeping into his voice.

Yoongi’s eyes widened. “What? Are you sure?”

    “Who else with that name would want me dead? He would do anything to get rid of me.” Jimin pursed his lips. “Besides, mum had wanted me gone for years now.”

“Wow,” Yoongi sucked in air harshly. “That sucks.” He said simply.

   Jimin nodded, wanting nothing more than to go to bed and wallow in his misery and misfortune. But Yoongi didn’t seem like he was leaving anytime soon, nor was he stabbing Jimin or anything. He raised an eyebrow. “So, are you gonna kill me or what?”

    He looked offended. “I would never kill people if they don’t deserve it. Besides,” He took Jimin’s hands and gave it a squeeze. “You’re my friend.”

 _Ouch_. He meant it in a reassuring manner, but Jimin still felt the spike in his heart whenever Yoongi emphasized the fact they were friends. Jimin squeezed back, because Yoongi looked genuinely worried for him. Yeah, way to drive the nail in the coffin, staring at Jimin with stupid his pouty lips, flushed cheeks and doe-like eyes.

“Glad to know I’ll survive tonight.” Jimin said half-heartedly. “What will you tell your boss?”

   Yoongi locked eyes with him, his gaze more serious than Jimin had ever seen. “You have to run away. He knows where you live. Even if I say I failed, he’ll just send more guys after you.”

   “Where will I stay?” Jimin asked, awfully aware of his shakey voice. “My mum kicked me out, remember? This is the only home I have.”

   Yoongi rolled his eyes. “You’ll stay with me, obviously. No one else will be able to protect you like I can. Under my wings, the other assassins wont dare lay a finger on you.”

Moving in with Yoongi?

   It sounded good, until it dawned on him that he would have to control himself around his old crush 24/7. It would be hard, considering the fact that Yoongi was ten times more attractive than before.

“Will it be okay?”

“Of course. We’re _friends_. I don’t want you dead.”

   Maybe it was a bit too late, but as he walked hand in hand with Yoongi at 3 am in the morning, he realized he might have just gotten himself into deep trouble. Jimin shook his head at his own idiocy. He almost forgot that staying with Yoongi meant living with an actual, real-life hitman. With a huge target on his back, having Yoongi’s protection wasn’t enough to reassure him. Plus, he didn’t want Yoongi to get hurt on the off chance someone attacked them while they were off-guard.

   But then again, dying before he turned 23 wasn’t exactly high on his list, either, so he kept his complaints to himself and Yoongi escorted him out of his rundown apartment, their fingers interlocked.

As he felt his heart rate increase to an almost dangerous level, a single thought popped up in his mind.

_Well, I’m fucked._

 

 


End file.
